Lost
by JulesDPM
Summary: When Virgil gets lost, Scott goes searching.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Thanks many times over to my beta._

Lost – Chapter 1

Scott woke to the sound of the emergency signal from his wrist comm. Urgent! Action! Rescue! He must get straight up and go to his father's desk for a briefing. His legs felt heavy and he struggled to fight his duvet off and get out of bed. He ran to the door unsteadily and went out to the hallway beyond, which stretched into the distance looking longer than usual.

He urged himself on but although his head was telling him to run his body was not responding and he lumbered frustratingly slowly towards the lounge. His head was swimming and he couldn't shake sense into it.

Finally he arrived by his father's desk and was surprised to see his brothers hadn't beaten him to it. Jeff was looking at him with exasperation and clicked the stopwatch in his hand.

"9.28 minutes from your bedroom to here. That's not good enough Scott! What if this was a real emergency? Go back to bed, go to sleep and we'll try again in half an hour."

Scott's mouth dropped open. "What in the name….?"

SNAP!

Scott woke up with a jump and sat upright in bed. Dammit! It had been a stupid dream. What in the hell was that all about?

Beep, beep.

His wrist comm was what had woken him and he realised his father was trying to contact him. He pressed the button, still slightly bemused.

"Yes, Father?"

"Do you know where Virgil is? The plane isn't in the hangar and I can't contact him on his wrist comm."

"Virgil… um….well, last he told me he was only going to be on the mainland for the day. He planned to go to a concert last night and then come back after."

"Well, he didn't."

"Maybe he felt too tired to fly. I expect he'll be back for breakfast," Scott replied glancing at his clock and seeing it was 5.30am.

"Then why isn't he answering his wrist comm?"

"Dunno. Give me a minute and I'll join you." Scott flicked off the connection and leapt out of bed. Reassuringly, after his dream, his legs felt in good shape and his body and mind were alert. However, where Virgil was and why his Dad was worrying about it at 5.30am was a different matter.

He pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt and left his room. He had seen from the vid call that his Dad was in the lounge but on the way he poked a head into Virgil's room and also tried to contact Virgil's wrist comm and Thunderbird 2's workshop just to cover a few bases.

His Dad was at his desk tapping some keys on his computer keyboard in a rather firm manner.

"He's probably stayed over at a friend's," was Scott's opening gambit. "Wake John up and get him to get a location fix on Virgil's wrist comm."

"I've tried that. John can't trace it."

"Oh!" Scott at last started to match his father's worry level. Half-heartedly he continued, "Well, how many watches did Virg break when he was a kid?"

"Yes," replied Jeff, "and how many of Brains's indestructible wrist comms has he broken?"

"Good point," Scott conceded. "In non-rescue situations not many, if any."

"I know your brother has his head in the clouds sometimes when he's thinking about paintings or music but since we formed International Rescue he's always been reliable on rescues and contactable at any other time. John has confirmed that his plane is still at the airport so he's disappeared on land somewhere. I don't like it."

"Do you need him urgently?"

"No, I just don't enjoy not knowing where one of my team is."

"You're right," said Scott, "It is unlike him. It's also worrying about the wrist comm. I can't think what would have happened, though. I mean, how much trouble can he get into going to a few art galleries and a concert?"

TBTBTBTBTB

Virgil groaned as he woke. His was lying on a hard floor, his arm hurt, his ribs hurt and his head hurt but he was alive. That was a good start. He cracked an eye open tentatively.

"He's awake," a female voice whispered from nearby. There was some rustling and Virgil moved his head to see who had spoken. Big mistake. He had a huge pain at the base of his skull and moving his head made it worse.

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to a see a man staring down at him. The man spoke harshly.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Virgil cast his mind back to the last thing he remembered and swiftly realised that he couldn't pinpoint anything. What the hell had happened to him?

"Who are you?" insisted the man.

Virgil's mind was blank. He had no answers. With growing horror Virgil realised he had no idea who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

"Start from the beginning," Scott asked of his father. "Why are you up so early?"

"It was John. He contacted me about an hour ago to tell me about an earthquake in the Indian Ocean. There was some concern that it was going to send a tsunami towards Java so all emergency services were on alert."

"Have we got any more on that?"

"John thinks from the chatter he's picking up and the satellite views that it doesn't look as bad as first thought. Java's tsunami plan is good, evacuation is going well and it shouldn't take much of a hit anyway. John's keeping an eye on it."

"Okay, good." Scott was relieved that there was one problem on hold. "And Virgil?"

"When I thought there might be a call out I did a routine scan to make sure everyone was where I thought they were. That's when I noticed that Virgil wasn't on the Island. I called up John and got him to track Virgil down on the mainland but he can't pick up a signal from his wrist comm anywhere."

As if he'd heard his name John's eyes flashed his wall portrait and at Jeff's touch of a button his face appeared on the wall instead of his photo. Fetchingly still in his pyjamas he started to rattle off information.

"Okay, Dad, I've checked the usual hotels but they won't give me any information so I may have to…you know…use more unorthodox means to access their guest information. They shouldn't be too hard to hack into."

Jeff sighed and John looked up. "Oh, morning Scott." Scott raised a hand in acknowledgement as his brother carried on. "The good news is that I've checked the emergency services data we have access to and it seems that Virgil hasn't been admitted to hospital or arrested. I've spoken to someone at the airport and they said that he'd filed a flight plan for late yesterday evening and they're not happy that his plane is still in the day parking and want to put it in a hangar. So I'm not much further on. Any ideas, Scott?"

"Not immediately. He said he was looking around a couple of art galleries and some music thing in the evening. Nothing he hasn't done many times before without disappearing on us."

"I don't like it," said Jeff. "Even if something prevented him from flying home last night he would have let us know or at a minimum John would be able to get a fix on his wrist comm."

Scott glanced at the time. "Okay, it's almost 6am. He's probably asleep and won't know his wrist comm isn't working for a couple of hours mainland time. I say we give it until 8am and we'll do some serious worrying then if he hasn't called or John hasn't come up with anything."

"What do you think, John?" asked Jeff.

"Works for me. I'll keep on investigating and let you know as soon as I find anything." The photo reappeared.

Scott and Jeff looked at each other for a moment but didn't share their respective thoughts. Scott stood up.

"I'm going for a run."

"Okay, son," replied Jeff as Scott headed for the patio doors passing the silent Baby Grand.

TBTBTBTBTB

"What are you? Police? Customs?" Virgil squinted up at the man who was interrogating him. He was a rough looking individual, wearing several days' worth of stubble, stinking of cigarettes and apparently very angry with him. Desperately Virgil tried to gather his thoughts but his head was spinning and he was frightened to realise he didn't even know his own name, let alone how he got there. He looked down at what he was wearing and decided that the chinos and collared shirt didn't look like they belonged to a uniformed officer of the law.

"I don't think so," he said tentatively.

"Well, I think you are. Undercover, snooping where you're not wanted. Ring any bells?"

The man's body language was aggressive and threatening. Virgil tried to sit up and gain more control of the situation but the pain in his skull made him sway so he settled on propping himself up on one elbow.

"Did I get hit by something?" he asked of the pale face woman who was hovering in the background.

She didn't get a chance to reply as the man chuckled. "Damn straight! I knocked you out cold. That's pay back for not minding your own business."

"Well, congratulations," replied Virgil bitterly. "You hit me so hard I've no idea where I am, who I am or what I was doing. Kudos, dickhead."

"Why you –" started the man, raising a fist but he was pulled back by the woman.

"I don't think he's lying. You really hurt him."

"I should have killed him!"

"We're in enough trouble. Leave him!" There was a certain plea in the voice of the woman as she tried to restrain her friend.

"Wallet?" enquired Virgil, groggily. "Do I have a wallet with my information in it?"

The man calmed himself with effort to answer the question. "Yeah, and thanks for that. The $500 is going to come in very handy. The only other thing was a credit card which said V Tracy on it. So what's your name? Vernon?"

Virgil chewed the name over in his head. Vernon? Was that his name? It didn't seem right but then nor did anything else right now. "I'm not sure."

"Well, I like it," the man smiled. "We'll call you Vernon for now. So Vernon, remembering anything now?"

Virgil felt a surge of panic rise within him again. Why couldn't he get his head straight? He couldn't even think of the basics like where he lived or what family he had, let alone why this man thought he was a threat. He glanced around, his new 'friends' having set up camp here with sleeping bags, food remains and clothes but it didn't jog any memories.

"I just…don't know…" He felt nausea and dizziness and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

The man turned away in disgust and spoke to the woman. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going to let him go until we're all finished up here anyway."

"If he really has got concussion or something , shouldn't we take him to the hospital?" asked the woman. "I mean, if he doesn't remember anything he can't tell anyone."

"Doesn't remember anything? Yeah, right. I don't believe that. As soon as he gets to hospital my bet is he'll 'remember'. We'll move him next door until we're done." He turned to Virgil. "Get up!" he ordered.

Virgil decided it was better to comply for now and tried to struggle to his feet. He clearly wasn't making a good job of it as the other two grabbed hold of him and helped him upright as he swayed. They then half dragged him to the door and into a corridor that was bare and clearly in disrepair. After a short distance they went through into another, larger room. The man let go of him and pushed him to the ground. Virgil groaned as he just about managed to prevent his head from hitting the concrete but at the expense of the rest of his body being painfully jarred.

He heard the two leaving the room and locking the door noisily behind them. He raised his head a little and all around him were crates and boxes stacked up to the ceiling. In front of him he saw a pile of discarded tarpaulin. With difficulty he pulled himself over to it. He rested his head on the marginally more comfortable plastic and passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott was sitting at the breakfast table nursing a cup of coffee. Across from him the normally chipper Gordon was subdued as he thought over what Scott had told him of the morning's events so far.

"It's just odd about the wrist comm," mused Gordon. "Brains has made them so sturdy. They are great at any altitude, any depth of water, under a couple of feet of concrete underground. Mine's got pretty beaten up but it's never failed. Even if the face got damaged then that wouldn't affect the tracker. To stop that working you'd have to…well…"

"Hit the whole thing pretty hard?" suggested Scott. The two silently mulled over the question that if the watch had taken a fatal blow then what had happened to the wearer? Scott sighed.

"I got John to check in the news that there haven't been any incidents in Brisbane that Virg could have gotten caught up in and there weren't."

"Well, that's something," said Gordon, frowning. "Seriously, he's 6ft 2, how can he just disappear?"

"John's hacked into CCTV before, hasn't he?" started Scott but he was interrupted by Jeff walking into the room.

"Okay, Scott, it's been two hours and no word."

Scott got to his feet immediately, as if the thought of actually doing something was a relief to him. "Then I'm going to Brisbane to see if I can track him down."

Jeff nodded his agreement. As Scott strode to the door Gordon's words stopped him.

"Do you want me to go instead? In case there's a rescue?" Gordon was aware of his place in International Rescue's hierarchy.

Scott paused for a moment. Go searching for Virgil or stay on the Island so as not to risk someone else flying Thunderbird 1? No contest.

"No, it's okay, I'll go. If there is a rescue just remind Alan not to fly One like he drives cars i.e. dangerously."

Gordon chuckled. "I will. And keep in touch, okay? One brother going AWOL is tiresome, two is just plain careless."

"Will do." And Scott was gone.

Thirty minutes later Scott was on his way to Brisbane. He called up John on Thunderbird Five.

John Tracy's primary role in International Rescue was to be the lead on Thunderbird 5, a job he enjoyed very much. Dealing with communications was his area of expertise and he worked hard to upgrade their capability at every opportunity. And as he was also an expert on astronomy, spending six months a year in space was an added bonus.

After a few months into the launch of International Rescue, John also found himself to be a sort of agony aunt to the inhabitants of Tracy Island. He realised that he had become a source of advice and that when tensions were simmering he would often get a call and end up being a listening ear. Despite the fact that even on a quiet day he communicated with base several times in 24 hours it appeared to be his actual physical distance from the island that would make him someone to turn to. Alan might call up on a pretext of asking about a system on Thunderbird 5 but then confess he was having difficulties with teasing from his older brothers. Or sometimes two people would contact him separately and he would hear both sides of a problem and find himself mediating a solution.

What Scott appreciated about John was his ability to **find out stuff fast**. Time and time again on rescues he would ask John for some background information on a situation and a concise, accurate answer would be forthcoming within minutes. John had spent some time convincing various organisations that it would be beneficial if International Rescue could have access to their databases. He also had a particular skill in accessing computer systems that they didn't have permission to use but that John was able to infiltrate and then get out of without his presence on the server being traceable. This hacking ability had made Jeff sigh with irritation on several occasions but tellingly he had never forbidden John to do it if it helped in an emergency situation.

"Scott to John."

"Decided to go looking for him, then?" replied John.

"Yeah, and when I catch up with him I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I can tell you," said Scott with sternness in his voice. John glanced at the vid but instead of seeing anger in Scott's face he saw worry and strain and John didn't believe a word of it.

Scott continued. "What do we know about what he was up to yesterday?"

"He was going to some art galleries in the day," John pulled a face trying to remember. "There was a Lichtenstein retrospective I know he wanted to see. Remember that huge comic page he did on his bedroom wall when he was about 8? Man that was funny seeing Dad and Grandma's face."

"And then having to spend the next few weeks stopping Gordon and Alan attempting the same. Anarchy. Happy times."

"Can't remember the name of the gallery but I can look that up," John carried on.

"Then a concert in the evening wasn't it?" Scott cursed himself for not paying more attention when his brother had told him of his plans. What at the time had been more important that he had only been half listening to Virgil?

"Probably at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre."

"Okay," decided Scott. "I'll check out there first and see if I can find whether he at least took his seat. I can work backwards from that point. Uh…John…about CCTV…"

John sighed. "I had a feeling you would get around to that."

"Yeah, but you got into it before didn't you?"

"It's not the getting in that's a problem- it's the searching of the data. I mean, I can run a filter against it but in places like the US and Australia a 6ft tall brown haired male is not that uncommon and Virgil doesn't really have any distinguishing facial features."

"Gordon reckons he's 6ft 2."

"No way! 6ft1 on a good day with thick soles."

Scott smiled. "Okay, okay, we'll continue that argument when he's home and we can measure him. Let me know if you find anything. Scott out."

When Scott arrived at the private airport just outside Brisbane that the Tracy family used, he checked over Virgil's plane and found no clues. He tipped the ground crew generously to put his and Virgil's planes in the hangar, an uneasy feeling persuading him to take no chances in having them in the open where there was less security.

He then took a taxi to the Performing Arts Centre and approached a young lady behind the counter at the box office.

"Hi. I'm trying to track down my brother. He was due to come to a concert here last night. Is there any way you can tell me if he actually took his seat?"

"Er…no, not really." Sharon checked a sheet to one side. "Oh, was he a parent of one of the singers?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Scott, confused.

"The concert last night was the Messiah sung by the Queensland Schools' Choir. It's open to the public but mostly it's just attended by friends and family. Perhaps he had a daughter or other relative singing in it?"

"No, he didn't. That doesn't sound right. Was anything else on last night?"

Again Sharon checked her sheet. "We had Joe Minnow doing stand up in the cellar bar, and in the studio theatre…no, that wasn't in use last night. Neither were any of the recital rooms."

"Oh," replied a disappointed Scott. "I assumed he'd come here as he's a regular."

Taking pity on the handsome but worried man before him, Sharon hit a few keys on her computer. "What's your brother's name?"

"Surname Tracy, no 'e'. First initial V."

After a few more taps at the computer the woman read from the screen. "Okay, we do have a V Tracy who has been to us a few times. Last time was a couple of months ago and there's nothing booked for the future. He could have paid by cash, though, and the transaction wouldn't necessarily be on the computer. Sorry I couldn't have been more help."

"Okay, well, thank you for your time anyway," and Scott turned and went back out into the Brisbane sunshine. Curiouser and Curiouser.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Virgil came to with a cough and pulled away the tarpaulin that had stuck to his face. He blinked at his surroundings, disappointed that he was still lying on a hard, concrete floor and was not in a soft bed waking from a bad dream. He managed to sit up and was relieved to find he didn't feel as sick and dizzy as earlier but disappointed that he was none the wiser about who he was and why he had found himself here.

He crawled over to the bottom of a stack of crates, sat up leaning against them and assessed his situation. He looked around at the high ceilinged room he was in. It had an industrial feel to it with brick walls and a metal ceiling. There were some tiny windows high up near the ceiling but their only use appeared to be to let in light. The panes of glass were only about six inches square and ran along the whole length of a wall on one side. If he had to guess Virgil would say he was in an office in a warehouse due to the architecture and tattered notices hanging off the wall. It had clearly not been used as an office for some time, though, and was now a storage area for goods packed in a variety of boxes and crates.

The boxes were stacked high and some reached up almost to the windows and although Virgil could see a way to climb them so he could look out he also realised that with the way he was feeling he might as well be looking up the side of Mount Everest for all the likelihood that he would be able to get up there without falling and hurting himself further. The thought of hitting his still throbbing head again was not pleasant.

Virgil turned his attention to himself. He had a vague memory of someone saying that you could "tell a man by his shoes". Well, his shoes were made of tan suede and looked expensive and in good condition. His clothes were also well made so he was comforted by the fact he was clearly not on the poverty line.

His short sleeved shirt revealed deeply tanned arms so he obviously spent some considerable time outside in a sunny place. He noticed on his left wrist that there was a white area that the sun had not reached. It looked like he wore a watch there and a big one at that. He frowned. There was something important about that watch and he knew it was bad to have lost it. Maybe it had been a present from someone special?

He looked at the back of his hands. No wedding ring and his fingers were long. Wasn't that supposed to mean he was artistic or something? He flexed his fingers to see if magically they wanted to show off a talent like holding a violin. He inspected a deep pink stain on one of them. Was that paint? He turned his hands over and found a different story. It looked as if his hands were used to hard physical work. There were a couple of healing cuts and some hard dry patches that seemed to indicate that he wasn't as pampered as the rest of him hinted.

He gave a huge sigh. This wasn't getting him anywhere. What he needed to do was get the hell out of this room, find a hospital and hope that a combination of the big outside world and medical care would put his head straight and he would be able to get home, wherever that was, and have a decent sleep.

He looked over at the door. He was pretty sure that it had been locked but sitting around assuming stuff wasn't going to help. He heaved himself upright and wobbled unsteadily over to the door and rattled the handle. Definitely still locked and with an old fashioned key system. Pity, if it had been electronic and he had the right tools he could have disabled it. The thought had come unbidden_. Oh, so I know a bit about electronics then? _He tried to think of what else he knew about but he couldn't get through the fog that was now his brain. Frustrated, he hit the door with his foot. He turned away and sat back down against the crate.

A few moments later there was the sound of a key being inserted and turned in the lock and the door was opened by the woman of earlier.

"Yeah, he's awake, Rob," she shouted over her shoulder.

She was carrying a couple of items including a bucket which she put down on the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked Virgil.

Virgil gave her the once over. Her face was lacking in colour and she was very thin. Her inner arms showed signs of something – drug use or self-harm, Virgil wasn't sure which.

"Not bad," he replied. "Can you tell me where we are? I mean, what city?"

"Brisbane."

Well that explained the tan although Virgil thought his voice sounded American, not Australian. His brain was sharp enough to tell him that an open door and a woman who looked like she could be blown over by a light wind was not an opportunity to pass up. Again Virgil struggled to his feet, this time trying to keep the woman occupied by talking to her.

"My memory is still a bit hazy so perhaps you could answer a few more questions for me." He started to move in her direction but then Rob entered the room and seeing Virgil's movement he raised a gun to point at him. Virgil's hand instinctively dropped to his hip but he had no idea why.

"Step back, Vernon, you're not leaving yet."

"I just wanted-"

"Don't care what you want. I do care about what you know. Have you "remembered" why you tried to break in here?"

"No, but-"

"If you've got nothing useful to say, Vernon, then shut up."

The woman spoke next. "Are you hungry? I thought you might want some breakfast." She held out a can of soda and a bag of Cheetos to Virgil but the man spoke harshly.

"Throw them to him. I don't want him coming close to you, Dana."

The items were thrown on the floor at Virgil's feet. He glanced at them, back at the gun and then at Dana.

"Did I have a watch on?" he asked.

Before she could answer, Rob spoke. "You see, you do remember some things. That so called watch looked more like a radio that the cops use. I smashed it with the same pole I hit you with so you couldn't bring any of your friends to the party."

"Right," replied Virgil, tiredly.

"Come on, Dana, now you know he's not dead let's leave him alone again."

Virgil felt a sudden sense of panic at this. He didn't want to be alone in this horrible room with no explanations. He needed company, even if it was only Rob and Dana.

"Look, I need the bathroom. Maybe one of you could take me….?"

Rob laughed at him and repeated what Virgil had said as if making fun of his well-mannered speech. Then he jerked the gun towards the bucket.

"There's your bathroom, Vernon, enjoy!" and with that he and Dana left the room, locking the door behind them.

Virgil sat down again in despair. Great, he got to pee in a bucket. Or possibly throw up into it as the thought of the Cheetos made him nauseous again. What the hell was going on? Why had he tried to break in? Did he really work for Brisbane's police force?

He still couldn't force any answers into his head. He closed his eyes and wondered if there was anyone in the world who gave a crap about him and was curious about where he was. He dearly hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott had spoken with John after leaving the Arts Centre and John had told him that the Lichtenstein exhibition was at the Shillam Art Gallery so he decided to take a look there for want of any other ideas.

As he walked through the rooms he wondered what he was hoping for. To find Virgil lost in thought in front of one of the images? When Virgil had visited him at Yale, Scott had bought tickets to take him to baseball or basketball games but soon found that his brother was just as happy meandering through the University Art Gallery and Scott came to enjoy learning about a world he otherwise wouldn't have given much time to. He very much valued his relationship with Virgil, enjoying both their similarities and differences. A world without him would be a poor one indeed and not one he wished to contemplate.

John shook him out of his reverie by contacting him to let him know that he had finally tracked down Virgil on CCTV leaving the Shillman Gallery shortly before it closed the previous day. That was the good news. The bad news was Virgil had almost immediately descended into one of the new city underground stations and John had not been able to pick him up again.

Scott investigated the metro station and it seemed that Virgil could have taken a train either in the direction of the old docks or out into the suburbs. Scott had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing the right direction.

Minutes later he was on a train heading for the suburbs. He examined each station stop to see if there was something that might have caught Virgil's eye and eventually left the train at a station that had an interesting mural of Australian cultural highlights created by local students.

Scott soon found himself wandering through the residential community enjoying the peace compared to the city centre. It was by now mid-evening, with lights coming on inside the houses. As he walked he couldn't help but glance through the windows of those houses whose curtains were not yet drawn. He saw people relaxing after a day's work, some sharing dinner, others flaked out in front of the TV. Children in pyjamas were winding their parents up before bed in one lounge while next door a middle-aged lady was bent over some embroidery, deep in concentration.

Scott had forgotten what his hobbies were. The trouble with being in International Rescue was he kinda lived above the shop and down time was rare. When he was out on a rescue it was full on and he was completely occupied. Back at base he would be cleaning, preparing and maintaining equipment for the next rescue. Or training with his brothers. Or reviewing past rescues to help future ones. Or testing one of Brains's new ideas. Or discussing Tracy Corp with his Father. And if he sat down on a sun lounger or started to watch a movie it wasn't long before he started to feel guilty about his inaction and found a reason to get up again.

He thought back to the dream that had woken him this morning. It was very similar to dreams he had had at Yale in the run up to his final exams. Then the dream had been about not getting to an exam on time because he couldn't run fast enough. He had mentioned it to a friend who told him the dreams had probably been caused by having too much on his plate and constantly working but that was normal at a university like Yale.

Maybe he should be kinder on himself and try and relax a bit after a rescue. Alan played computer games and Gordon did something water related and he never chastised them for it. Maybe he should play the piano more often like Virgil and lose himself in the music and his more settled mind would perhaps then give him an easier night's sleep. Not that he would get a good night's sleep until he found wretched Virgil….

A little way ahead of him he saw a young lad about 11 or 12 years old sitting on a low wall with his head in his hands. Curious, Scott looked closer as he approached and could see despair in the boy's body language. Momentarily distracted from thoughts of his brother, Scott approached the boy.

"You okay, buddy?"

The lad looked up, clearly trying to hide a tear. "Not really."

Scott crouched down next to him. "Can I help?"

"I lost my dog. I just can't find him anywhere and my mum says I gotta be in for bed in half an hour and I just don't know where else to look." The boy gave a huge sigh and Scott really felt for him.

"Tell me what happened from the beginning and I'll see if I can come up with an idea."

The boy gave him a look as if he was unused to adults being useful and then obviously decided that he had nothing to lose.

"My Dad's doing some building work on the house. He was bringing stuff through from the truck into the back yard and a pile of bricks fell out of the wheelbarrow. I think the noise must have scared Scooby and the back gate was open and he took off. I've searched and searched and I can't find him."

"Does he usually come when you call his name?"

"Always, first time. He's a black Labrador and I trained him really well."

"Good for you. Okay, so Scooby may have been frightened but if he heard you searching and calling his name he probably would have come to you, yes?"

"Yes."

"So that either means he's too far away to hear or he's got himself in a bit of trouble. You've got 30 minutes, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, how about I help you do a grid search?"

The boy look worried. "My mum says I shouldn't go off with strangers."

"And your mum is right and the idea is you go one way and I go the other. Show me on this bit of dirt how the roads around here are laid out." He handed the boy a stick and he drew a rough map.

"Okay you start here and go along here and I'll start here and walk along here and we'll be walking towards each other. I'll make a guess that you've been running here, there and everywhere shouting Scooby's name, am I right?"

"Yeah, but I can't find him."

"This time we walk slowly. We shout Scooby's name and then stop for a moment. As well as using your eyes use your ears. Stop, listen, and take in your surroundings. When you're sure you can't hear or see any sign of Scooby walk a little further along the route."

"And if he's trapped I might hear him? Worth a go, I guess."

"Okay. Can you whistle really loud?"

The boys proudly demonstrated a whistle that vibrated Scott's eardrums.

"Wow...great. Okay, if either of us finds Scooby we whistle to the other. Let's do it."

The two got to their feet and headed their separate ways. For the next 20 minutes Scott searched for the missing dog. It made a change from looking for Virgil. Perhaps he'd find them both? Perhaps not. He then heard some frantic whistling and started to jog towards the sound. He found a small park and the frantic whistling came again. He pushed through some bushes at the edge of the park and found the boy sitting next to his dog.

An old wire fence, half on its side, had trapped the dog's leg. Crashing through the undergrowth, Scooby must have stepped on the meshed metal and his paw had slipped through a rusty opening. As he had tried to pull his leg out, the bent, jagged wire had caught against the leg making it too difficult and painful to get free. Scott dropped down next to them.

"He's bleeding!" said the boy.

"Looks like he got his paw wedged in there and can't pull it out. It's okay, Scooby, soon have you free. Bet it hurts, boy."

Scooby appeared to whine an affirmative. Scott quickly assessed the situation.

"Okay, you need to reassure him and I'll just try and lever his leg out," said Scott searching round for a stout stick. The boy muttered soothing words to Scooby and buried his face in Scooby's fur. Scott eased a stick into the hole making it larger and gently eased the paw out. Scooby gave a yelp of astonishment and then proceeded to lick the wound.

"There we go," smiled Scott, satisfied.

"Scooby!" said the boy delightedly.

"He's cleaning the wound himself but it should probably get checked out by a vet. I'll carry him if you can show me the way to your house."

Five minutes later Scott standing on the boy's doorstep, Scooby in his arms, as the boy dragged his Mum and Dad outside, excitedly telling the tale.

"….and we did a grid search and I heard Scooby whining and the man got his leg out of the fence and…" The words were coming out in a rush. Scott handed the dog over to the Dad.

"There you go. He's just got some wounds on his leg. The fence was pretty rusty so I recommend you take him to a vet. And you, young man, could use some of your pocket money to put a tracker on his collar. That way you'll always be able to find him if he goes missing."

Suddenly Scott's troubles weighed down on him again. Damn, Virgil! He had a tracker on him too but it had turned out to be useless. What the hell had gone wrong? Scott realised that the Mum was talking to him.

"…come in for a beer?"

"Oh, no thanks, I must be off."

"Scott, have you said thank you?" With a jolt Scott realised that the young lad had the same name as him.

"Thank you for helping me find my dog," said little Scott, sincerely.

"No problem, kid. Maybe someday you'll be able to help find someone else's lost dog now you're an expert. Say, do you have a brother?"

"A little one called Ethan."

Big Scott ruffled little Scott's hair affectionately. "Stick a tracker on him too, okay?"

And with that he walked off in the direction of the station, unaware that little Scott and his family were staring after him.

As he neared the station Scott raised his wrist.

"Scott to John"

"Have you found him?"

Scott sighed. "No. I've found a whole bunch of other stuff but not Virg. How's it going your end?"

"Nothing so far. His name is not appearing on any data I search and his ugly mug isn't appearing on any of the cameras."

"I don't get it, John. Searching for lost people is what we do. Why is this so hard? On a rescue I don't have a problem with coming up with a plan but searching for my own brother seems impossible. I'm just wandering around like an idiot."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. It's not like the rest of us have come up anything either."

"We should have some coherent strategy to work to, not this ad hoc blundering around in the dark. Talking of which, can you get me a hotel room for the night? If I don't come up with anything this evening then I'll keep at it tomorrow."

"Way ahead of you. I've booked you into the Metropolitan. I thought you might want to hang around." John tried not to look smug.

"Mind reader, huh?"

"I saw it in the stars. Look, we're all emotionally involved in this particular rescue. I don't think that helps the decision making progress. Get yourself to the hotel. When you're in this sort of mood a bit of sleep usually does the job. In the morning Virgil will either be contacting us like nothing happened or we'll be clear-headed enough to come up with your precious strategy."

"You know, if one of the babies talked to me like you are right now I'd give them a smack," replied Scott humourlessly.

John grinned. "I know. But for one I'm not Gordon or Alan and two I'm way, way up in space and you can't reach me."

"Smart ass. Thanks for the room, though, appreciate it." .

"Catch you later."

With John gone, Scott started to up his pace. John was right; all that was needed was a change in attitude. A bit of luck wouldn't go amiss either.

And, unknown to Scott, on the other side of the city, their luck was about to be on the upswing.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that evening Josh Wilson and Ollie Taylor were walking home to their flat from the bar where they had spent a few hours catching up with friends. Undergraduate computer science students, they had enjoyed a few drinks but had turned down the offer of moving on to a club, preferring to go home and play the computer game Shadows of Nargun with each other and their online buddies.

They were taking a short cut through the old docks area which was now mostly an upscale part of town with smart loft apartments and interesting restaurants as well as businesses in converted warehouses.

The two young men walked along the darkened streets chatting about what they aimed to achieve with their guild on the game.

"We have to defeat the Hoko Forest boss first," said Ollie.

"I dunno. We've already tried that once and it didn't work. Unless Liam is playing tonight I don't see the point," replied Josh.

"JT's a good healer. We could use him."

"But he doesn't have enough experience – hey what's that?" Rob was distracted by a crunching under his foot. He looked down and saw something glinting in the streetlight. He picked the object up and examined it closely.

Ollie took a glance. "Looks like a broken watch. Just throw it in the bin over there."

"I think it's a bit more than a watch," countered Josh. He brushed away some bits of grit and broken display to reveal the inside workings. "I mean, that there is probably the watch bit and there's the power but what does that chip do? There are some radio bits, I think. It's really sophisticated."

Ollie peered over too. "That's looks like some expensive kit. I wonder why someone just left it lying around?"

"Dunno. Let's take it home and see if we can't fix at least some of it back together. One side doesn't look in too bad a shape. We might be able to work out what it does."

"Okay," agreed Ollie, "But after we defeat the forest boss."

"Yeah, okay, after the boss," laughed Josh and stuffed the remains of Virgil's wrist comm into his jacket pocket.

TBTBTBTB

Virgil woke up as the rays of the morning sun were creeping through the windows in his prison. He felt like he had a hangover but without the pleasure of the drinking. At least every time he woke from a sleep he felt a little better but as his mind reached out for his memories they faded into the ether like tendrils of smoke.

He hauled himself to his feet and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. He has already developed a habit on waking of going over to the door and checking if it was still locked and looking through the keyhole to see if the key had been left on the other side in case he could jiggle it loose and reach for it under the door.

When he had confirmed that he was still stuck he looked around the room again. He decided to have a search through some of the boxes to see if any contained food. The odd soda and packet of snacks he had thrown to him were not enough to stem the hunger he was now starting to feel since he had lost his nausea.

The crates and boxes mostly seemed to have been opened and rummaged through and he had started to suspect what Rob and Dana were up to. He knew they were involved in something illegal and Rob's talk of police and customs made him think that they were possibly part of some smuggling operation. The contents of the crates were innocuous enough – children's toys, clothes and plastic kitchen items – but it looked like something else might have been hidden among them to be retrieved by his hosts.

The nearest he managed to find to food were a couple of boxes of cans but he could find nothing to actually open the cans with. Instead he was tortured by the labels showing fruit in juice or meat stew.

Deciding he needed to become more proactive about escaping he started to wonder if it would be possible to use some of the items in the room to his advantage. He didn't think he would get far in a straight fight; his balance wasn't back to normal yet and, besides, Rob was armed. The element of surprise was what was needed. Maybe he could rig up something that would temporarily distract his captors when they walked in the door and then he would be able to get away.

He had started to formulate his plan when he heard the sound of a voice and it sent a chill through him. It seemed to come from an area above him. The voice was frail but desperate.

"Help me, help me….they're going to hurt me. Help…somebody help…."

The pleading voice continued on and off for some time and grated on Virgil's already fragile nerves. He wondered who on earth it could be. Someone imprisoned like him by Rob and Dana? What were they running – a county jail? He felt an overwhelming need to rescue what sounded like a terrified old man. Again he went to try to open the door. He had put his own troubles aside and now his focus was finding a way to get to this victim. He searched through more boxes looking for something, anything that might help him. The voice eventually stopped calling and Virgil found himself sitting on the floor trembling slightly, confused and on edge. His mind was searching for answers and he was coming up with a few more.

The desperate voice had awoken something in him. A strong desire to rescue someone from their misery. What if he really _was_ a Brisbane cop? What if he had heard that voice from the street? What if he had tried to gain access to the building to help and Rob had seen him, assumed he had found their smuggling operation and attacked him? What if he had been investigating one crime and stumbled across another inadvertently?

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Virgil looked up as Dana and Rob, gun in hand, came in. A soda and packet of pretzels hit the floor beside him as he got to his feet.

"Hey, Vernon," said Dana. "There's some breakfast for you."

At that moment an electronic tune started playing and Rob pulled his phone from his pocket and answered it.

"Yeah? Oh, hi. Really?" Rob backed out into the corridor but his gun was still trained on Virgil's gut.

Virgil turned his attention to Dana as he asked his question. "I heard an old guy shouting. He kept saying help. He sounded really scared. Have you heard it?"

"Oh, all the time. Above this floor are some fancy loft apartments and he's in one of them. A rich couple live up there and he's one of their Dads. I talked to them once. He's got that old person's disease…what is it…altitude sickness…no…"

"Alzheimer's?"

"Yeah, that's it. It makes him think he's going to be attacked or something. I think he gets left alone a lot as the other two are always at work so he goes a bit funny. It's creepy, isn't it? I'll be glad when this job's over and I can leave here."

"So can his voice be heard from the street, do you think?"

"Oh sure, when the windows are open."

"And the door to the apartments is the same as the door to this floor?"

"Oh no, they've got some smart entrance around the side."

"But if I had been walking passed and heard him I might have tried to use your door to get to him?"

"Yeah, you might. Oh….do you think that's what you were trying to do?"

Before Virgil could reply Rob finished his call and stepped back in the room.

"Dana, we gotta go down to Sydney and pick up a package. Better give Vernon, here, the rest of the food. We'll be gone a couple of days."

"Really? Geez." But Dana obediently left the room. It was just Virgil and Rob. Virgil stood taller, weighing up his options.

"You could just give me a can opener and a spoon. There's plenty here."

"Been snooping some more have you, cop?" spat Rob.

Virgil stepped closer. "Look, I'm clearly a problem to you. I don't even think I was after you guys, I was looking into the old guy upstairs. Why don't you let me go and –"

"You must be joking, wise guy. Sit on the floor over there!" Rob was clearly feeling threatened. He started to point the gun more steadily. Virgil stood his ground for a moment and then Dana returned with an armful of junk food.

"Drop the tucker and get out," ordered Rob. Dana did what she was told. Rob let off a shot at a crate which made Virgil flinch. Before Virgil could react the door was shut and locked again. Virgil stood for some time staring at door as the smell of gunfire hung in the air.

TBTBTBTBTB

For the second time in two days Scott was woken by the sound of someone trying to contact him on his wrist comm. He had not slept much during the night. After a fruitless evening searching for Virgil in bars, especially ones with live music, he had gone to the hotel room to try and get some rest. He had alternated between slumbering exhaustion and his mind racing so fast he was sitting upright in his bed.

John eventually roused him from one of his short periods of fitful sleep.

"Wake up, sleepy head."

"Virg turned up yet?" was Scott's first question as he tried to smooth his hair into some kind of order.

"Nope. But I have come up with an idea."

"Great, what is it?" asked Scott, starting to sound enthusiastic.

"Well, I just thought it was odd that we both reckoned Virg had gone to a concert but there was no trace of him buying a ticket at the Arts Centre. I mean, he would have booked it up in advance from the Island by credit card, right?"

"Right."

"So I had a look at some other venues around Brisbane. It turns out that the docks area has quite a few little art centres where bands do small gigs or foreign films are shown, that kind of thing."

Scott was animated now. "And the docks area was the opposite way on the metro that I went last night!"

"Exactly."

"Great. Hey, is there any way you can hack into Virgil's credit card statement and-?"

"No way, Scott! Hack into a bank with their security? No way in hell am I doing that. What I _have_ done is to pinpoint all the art centres and sent their locations to you. Go and check them over."

"Will do!" replied Scott, leaping out of bed.

"Hang on there, tiger, it's 7am. Nothing's open yet. Go and have a decent breakfast first."

Scott sat back on the bed, the adrenalin fading. He decided it was time to take control. "Okay, I'll have breakfast and you flag any of the arts places that have a steak house near them. Virg wouldn't have missed his dinner and you know how he likes a steak."

"FAB. John out." Scott took a deep breath. He was going to find his brother today. Dead or alive, he would find him.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Josh rolled out of bed and stretched. He was up surprisingly early. He, Ollie and their friends had tried a couple of times to defeat the forest boss in Shadows of Nargun but to no avail. There was a certain lack of enthusiasm after the botched attempts and their group disbanded to try again another time.

Josh was heading to the kitchen when he passed his desk and saw the remains of the watch. He picked it up and examined it again. The electronics showed a type of finesse that he had been trying to reach all academic year. He was still curious by what everything did. It was an intriguing bit of kit that he wanted to explore further. He flicked on the desk lamp and sat down.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

_Well, _reflected Scott_, who knew that Brisbane had such a thriving arts community? _He had visited the places suggested by John and had found a variety of acts playing including experimental theatre and comedy nights. The one that piqued his interest, though, was a little theatre which, although now closed and bolted, boasted a couple of nights of a jazz pianist on a poster outside. The pianist was relatively well known and toured extensively but was doing two "intimate" gigs in his home town and one of the nights had been two days previously.

Scott's instincts told him that this was nearest he had come to finding his brother. It was mid-morning and the place was empty but Scott wasn't going to wait around until the next time it opened. He started to look around the area at the nearby flats. Around the back of the theatre, steps lead up to a small block of apartments and Scott decided to ring a few door bells to see if anyone could give him leads on the owner of the theatre. He had a couple of photos of Virgil and today he was going to show them to every damn inhabitant of the city if he had to.

He walked up the steps and picked a door bell at random. He was just about to push it when his wrist comm attracted his attention. It was John.

"Hey, John, I might have a lead."

"I've found him!" replied John in excitement.

"What? Where?"

"His wrist comm has started transmitting the tracking signal. It just suddenly came to life. I've tried to contact him but I've still not got any comms."

"Where?"

"About 10 blocks from where you're standing!"


	6. Chapter 6

John fed the location through to Scott and he eagerly set off. Despite his relief and enthusiasm Scott also felt a little wary. Something had prevented Virgil from sticking to the plan he had of only one day away from Tracy Island. Something had stopped him being available for his International Rescue duties. Whatever the something was it could not be good. He may have been prevented in some way which raised the issue that Scott could be walking into a difficult and dangerous situation. He wondered whether he should take the time to go back to his aircraft to collect the gun he had stored there.

On the other hand Virgil could be badly injured, in which case every second counted. Scott's pace increased at the thought. He had already asked John to find out as much about the area he was heading to as he could and it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Wasn't it Roosevelt who had said "Speak softly but carry a big stick"? As Scott hurried along a back street he came across a short scaffolding-type pole lying by some broken glass. He scooped up the pole and decided it would work as a big stick.

He carried on and soon arrived at a block of apartments which had a banner across the side advertising cheap student accommodation. He raised his wrist comm.

"John, are you sure this is the right place? It's student apartments."

"Maybe he bagged a Senior? You're pretty close but I can't tell you the apartment you need. If you get in I can tell you how close you are."

"Okay. Hang on."

The door into the block was locked. Scott thought for a moment and then hit as many of the intercom buttons as he could simultaneously. As soon as people started to answer he stated "pizza delivery" and someone buzzed him in. Following John's "warmer…colder" instructions he eventually found himself outside the door to apartment 312. He considered his options. Anyone could be in there. It could be a benign situation or a whole heap of trouble. But most importantly it was Virgil. He knocked forcefully on the door and then held the pole in both hands, ready for whatever happened. The door was opened by a young man in sweats who look startled at the sight of Scott and his weapon.

"Hey, what -?" he began but was brusquely pushed aside as Scott entered the flat.

"Where's my brother?" demanded Scott as he started to search the kitchen/lounge that was so small it took him about 5 seconds. He turned back to the young man angrily.

"Where is he?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You've got the wrong place, man," said Josh.

"I have exactly the right place, now what have you done with him?" Scott decided that going on the offensive was the right thing. He started to search the other rooms. There was an empty bathroom, a bedroom with someone else in and an empty bedroom.

"Get out, weirdo!" said Josh but Scott's attention was taken by a desk bearing a light, a small soldering iron and Virgil's wrist comm. He snatched it up with a mixture of relief and despair. He swung around to Josh.

"Where did you get this?" Josh had now been joined by a bleary-eyed Ollie. "Where did you get this?!" Scott almost shouted at the two staring at him slack-jawed. He started to brandish the pole and so Josh found his voice.

"In the street! We found it in the street just lying there like someone had thrown it away."

"And my brother? It was his. Did you steal it from him?"

Ollie spoke now. "No, I swear, we didn't see anyone near it. We thought it was trash but Josh wanted to get it working again."

Scott stared at them a moment longer and then started to lower the pole. He could see no reason that they were making it up. He knew he had been threatening enough with these two and they didn't seem to be hiding anything. They looked scared enough, anyway.

"I need you to tell me where you found this," he said, more quietly-speaking now but no less dangerous.

"A few blocks away," said Josh,

"I need you to show me exactly where. Exactly!" said Scott.

"No problem, dude. Right away," replied Josh. "Ollie, get dressed, you're coming too."

"Oh yeah, great, invite me to come along with you and the crazy guy," muttered Ollie going back to his room.

"Both of you sounds ideal. Let's get going," said Scott and marched towards the front door.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Fifteen minutes later Josh and Ollie were standing at the spot where they had found Virgil's wrist comm. Scott was firing questions at them.

"Are you sure it was here?"

"You can see the broken glass, dude," said Ollie.

"Was there anyone else around?"

"No," replied Josh for the fourth time to the same question.

"Why were you here?"

"Walking back home after a night out."

Scott sighed. "My brother's missing. The watch had a locator in it which was broken. You must have got it working again which is how I found you. Now I need to find him. It's the best lead I've had in 48 hours."

Scott threw the pole down on the ground and Josh and Ollie visibly relaxed.

"Hey, I got it going!" said Josh. "I knew it wasn't an ordinary watch. What else does it do? I could try and mend the rest of it if that would help."

Scott gave a wry smile at the young man's enthusiasm. "It wouldn't, but thanks."

"Someone must have mugged him for it," suggested Ollie.

"He's not an easy guy to mug, I can tell you. Anyway, why leave the watch after and where is my brother?"

"Sorry, can't help you with that," said Ollie.

"Thanks, guys, I guess you can go," said Scott, tiredly. The boys turned to leave. "Hey, you, what's your name again?"

"Josh Wilson."

"Are you a student?"

"Yes."

"At Queensland University?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You've been very helpful. I might want to reward you."

"Sure thing! Good luck with finding your brother."

Josh and Ollie headed back home and Scott made a mental note to get Lady Penelope to keep a watching brief on Josh Wilson. In a few years he may well get his reward – a job offer from International Rescue. But for now Scott had other things to worry about. This was where Virgil had last been and where he had been separated from his wrist comm. Chances were he may be near and perhaps in some sort of trouble.

For the next half an hour Scott searched the area. There were a mixture of small shops, art galleries, apartment blocks and some yet to be redeveloped warehouses. He ran here and there showing Virgil's photo to shopkeepers, trying all the doors he could and searching for any minute sign of his brother. Eventually he was back by the broken glass and pole and he was no better off. Hot, sweaty and deeply pissed off he stood with his hands on his hips trying to come up with a new plan.

His mind went back to little Scott and Scooby. He also felt like sitting on a wall and crying. He remembered his own advice. Just like his younger name sake he had been running around like a headless chicken getting nowhere. It was time to slow down and use his head. A grid search. Shouting Virgil's name. Stopping and listening. Being calm.

Scott looked around the neighbouring buildings and in desperation opened his mouth and shouted for all he was worth.

"Virgil! Virgil!"


	7. Chapter 7

When Virgil heard his name being called his memories didn't suddenly rush back to him, it was more like things slowly started to fit into place. He realised immediately that his name was Virgil and not Vernon and he felt some relief. He also realised that it was Scott who was shouting it. Scott, good grief, how could he have forgotten about Scott and had not been reassured that he had a big brother who wouldn't rest until he had found him?

He also knew he had to react immediately. He looked up at the Everest of crates and moved. He started to clamber up them as quickly as possible, grabbing a tin from one of the crates as he did so. He reached the level of the small windows and started to hit them with the can until they shattered. He shouted Scott's name several times. He managed to break three windows before dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him and he thought he would fall. He threw the tin out of one of the windows in desperation and then tried to make his way back down the crates. All he could hear was a mad buzzing in his ears.

He finally found himself on solid ground and retched. He could do no more. He hoped to God he had alerted Scott. He took some deep breaths and felt steadier again. Scott, his brothers… it had all been there in his head and he finally started to get access to it. International Rescue. So he wasn't a cop but he could still have been trying to rescue someone. What about his other brothers? Had they been captured too? It still didn't make sense.

Gradually he became aware of noise and some shouting. It was Scott again and he seemed nearer.

"Virgil! Where are you?"

Scott must have got access to the building. Virgil staggered over to door and started to bang on it.

"Scott, Scott, I'm here, I can't get out."

Scott's voice got nearer until, to Virgil's great relief, he knew his brother was on the other side of the door.

"Scott, the door's locked."

"Okay, no problem, I'll break it open. Step away from the door, while I try….Virgil, step away from the door, okay? Virg?"

Virgil took a deep breath. He had to step away. It made sense. Scott was waiting for an answer. He took several steps back.

"Okay, I'm away from the door."

Virgil found himself putting his hands over his ears as there followed a lot of noise and cursing as the door began to give way. Suddenly the door swung open on and Scott was standing there. Virgil staggered forwards and threw his arms around a very startled Scott and would not let him go.

He heard Scott talking into his shoulder.

"Virgil, what happened? How did you get in here? Are you okay? Let me take a look at you."

Virgil felt Scott prising him loose.

"The others?" Virgil asked. "Are they okay?"

Scott looked confused. "They're fine. It's just you that went missing. What happened?"

Virgil knew Scott was trying to assess him and he had to give him the salient facts. He fixed his eyes on Scott's.

"Amnesia. Concussion. Hospital."

There was brief look of distress on Scott's face before he became business-like.

"No problem. Right away."

Virgil was overcome with relief. Scott was here, taking charge and would make things right. He could pass over the responsibility to the one person he knew was always reliable, steadfast and decisive. Virgil let his legs give way at the knees and he felt Scott safety lower him to the ground.

TBTBTBT

Two days later Virgil was sitting up in a hospital bed feeling grand. He was by no means back to full fettle but life was making more sense. Beside him a stubbly-faced, exhausted-looking Scott was slouched in a chair. Virgil knew he had to insist that Scott went to the hotel and got some proper sleep but he just wanted a few more hours of Scott's calm reassurance.

Virgil's belly was full since Grandma had arrived and taken over feeding him. He wasn't even irritated by Gordon who tended to resort to dark humour when stressed and every time he entered Virgil's room would come up to him and very slowly and loudly shout at him:

"It's me! Gordon! Your brother! Do you understand?"

Virgil felt he'd had every head scan known to man and had enjoyed several trips around the hospital on a trolley as he was taken to various rooms for them. He had also had a number of doctors ask him endless questions and test his reactions and memory. But he had endured it all happily as he knew who he was, knew he was safe and was even able to make the short trip to his hospital room bathroom without wobbling much. And the fact he had a whole bathroom and not a bucket was something he felt he would appreciate for some time to come.

The pillows felt like little clouds of comfort under his head and whenever he dozed off and awoke again the picture was still the same. His still felt a bit woolly headed but mostly his brain seemed to be working right and the doctors were in agreement that a long period of rest should see him recover fully.

Alan had visited and gone again as John had insisted on coming back from Thunderbird 5 to the hospital to, as he put it, "See the fruits of my labours". John arrived and found Gordon hovering by the door. Gordon grinned and the two shook hands, having not seen each other for 3 weeks.

"How's the patient?" asked John.

"Not bad, considering. Watch out, though, he's still a bit inclined to randomly hug people at the moment."

The two exchanged a puzzled look and then John approached the bed.

"How's it going, Virg?"

"Not bad at all."

"You seem to have a homeless person asleep by your bed."

Scott started from his doze, took in John and closed his eyes again. Virgil smiled.

"He started off more guard dog but he's deteriorating. He tells me you were helping him find me."

"Yes and you led us a merry chase I can tell you. Next time you leave the Island we need a detailed itinerary pinned to the board."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Brains is in despair about the failure of your wrist comm and will not come out of the lab until he's done a complete redesign of them. The cops are still waiting for Rob and Dana to come back from Sydney but are thrilled with the evidence you led them to."

"Not so thrilled with the bucket of poop, I suspect," smiled Virgil, wryly.

John laughed. "Perhaps not. And how are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit over the head. The drugs are good, here, though. And if I'm very well behaved, can walk in a straight line and remember the name of Gordon's first goldfish I can come home in a few days."

"Good stuff. And back to rescues?"

There was a stirring from the chair. "He can go back to rescues when hell freezes over or I say so ."

"Yes, Mom," said Virgil.

John laughed. "Hey, Virg, how tall are you by the way?"

"6 foot 3."

"You are not!" exclaimed John.

"He's a bit shorter than me so-" began Gordon.

"I am not!" retorted Virgil.

"Get out of bed, titch, and we'll see," said John.

At this point Scott stood up and spoke over their arguing.

"Shut up! I am taller than all of you and that's what matters. John, sit in my seat and look after Virgil while I go and get some shut eye at the hotel. Gordon, go find Grandma and organise lunch. Virgil, do not get out of bed. Are we all clear?"

"Yes, Scott," came some murmured replies, no one keen to irritate an overtired big brother with a face like an angry bear. Scott and Gordon left the room, John sat down on the chair and Virgil smiled happily. All was just as it should be. Maybe he would have another nap but a bedtime story would be good.

"John, tell me how you and Scott found me and don't leave anything out."

And as John talked, Virgil slipped into a warm and fuzzy sleep.

THE END

Epilogue

After a couple of weeks' recuperation Virgil was almost fully fit and allowed back on rescues after a month.

Rob and Dana were captured and found guilty of drugs smuggling with sentences of 10 and 8 years respectively.

The elderly gentleman with Alzheimer's was, at the suggestion of social services, moved to a nursing home where he was treated appropriately for his condition and became less agitated.

Scott allowed himself more down time and the bad dreams stopped.

Inspired by big Scott, little Scott grew up to work as a search and rescue helicopter pilot.

Josh is still waiting for his reward but completed his degree with honours and he and Ollie's guild did finally beat the forest boss.


End file.
